


Bullflower

by AWritingNerd



Series: Hades Fics [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, It technically has character death, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWritingNerd/pseuds/AWritingNerd
Summary: Asterius loves TheseusTheseus does not love Asterius.Hanahaki and the Prince of the Underworld force Asterius to finally confront his feelings for his king.----Alternatively: Asterius has Hanahaki for Theseus, and Zagreus is a supportive wingman. Hypnos is just tired.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game), Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Hades Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168565
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90





	Bullflower

**Author's Note:**

> Hades is curing my writers block XD

Asterius loves Theseus. He’d accepted it a long time ago, when his king had first begun sparring with him for the fun of it rather than the training aspects, and knew he was smitten when he found himself agreeing before he could think about it. He found his thoughts wandering during their time together, fleeting battle strategies traded for thoughts of his king’s more vulnerable moments, when they were alone, and the ‘hero of Elysium’ could finally just be Theseus; those moments when Theseus would give him a small smile, or address him with his gentle voice, the moments when he wasn’t brash or loud, just soft and kind. 

Theseus does not love Asterius. The bull had also accepted this, for he knew that even without feelings of a more intimate nature, he would at least be with his king regardless. He didn’t need Theseus to reciprocate. He just needed to stay near him, to continue hearing his voice, seeing him in those moments when his façade was down, and the Theseus he treasured appeared to him. He would cherish their moments together, and he would ignore the fluttering in his heart when Theseus casually changed in front of him, or when he engaged in any manner of physical contact with him. 

Asterius was going to ignore it, at least, but those hopes were dashed rather swiftly by the goddess of love herself. For he knew it had to be Aphrodite. No other god or goddess would curse his breath with the rattle of weakness, his voice with the rasp of pain, his lungs with the blooms he had seen so long ago on the surface. No, it had to be her, meddling yet again in something he wished she’d stay out of. Ignoring feelings for a friend is not made easier by being reminded of them with the flutter of flowers. Making sure said friend is unaware of both his pain and his feelings is made more difficult by the coughing and wheezing that leaves his mouth, along with flowers that he hides clutched in his large hands. 

It is the ‘short one’ that finally notices, the prince of the Underworld looking at him with an expression of confusion when he cuts their spar short to cough up a few more flowers. He had escaped before doing so, luckily, but by the faint concern in the prince’s eyes, he knew Zagreus would not forget this, and would likely inquire after it in their next encounter. Since he isn’t sure what to say, he makes sure that is a while yet, but he can’t avoid such things forever, and much sooner than he’d like, he is yet again in the Short One’s path. 

This time, it is in the middle of battle, and the Short One mentions him, unknowing perhaps, of how little Asterius is trying to think of him. “What do you see in Theseus?” he asked, and Asterius feels the flowers build up in the back of his throat at the thought of his partner, skin glistening with sweat as they spar in the coliseum. He coughs them up, and faintly remembers the presence of the Short One when the prince lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I figured,” he says, looking down at the flowers on the ground, covered in blood and thorns. “You love him.” 

“I...do not…” he wheezes, his panic overcoming him as more flowers leave his mouth. “Don’t...say…!” He isn’t able to finish before more come, but Zagreus seems to understand, if his expression of sympathy is anything to go by, and he shakes his head, waiting for Asterius’ fit to stop before settling down next to the minotaur on the ground.  
“I’m not going to tell him,” he whispers, and Asterius is flooded with relief.

He knows he can trust the prince’s word in this, though he isn’t sure how he thinks this. Maybe it’s the way Zagreus looks at him, with that tinge of empathy, or the way the prince lays down his weapons next to where Asterius dropped his in pain, a show of truce that unexpectedly brings tears to the bull’s eyes. He meets the prince’s eyes, and after a moment, the boy answers the unasked question. “I’ve had it once, not too long ago, actually. I know the kind of pain you're in, and trust me, I didn’t want to tell him either,” here, the Short One looks away, though there is an embarrassed flush on his face, and Asterius finds himself curious about the target of the prince’s affections. “You realize after a while, though, that the pain won’t get better,” he cringes. “If you let it go on for too long, you’ll die from it, and even death will not erase it. Ease it back to its first stages, maybe, but it doesn’t destroy it. The only escape is confession.” 

“Reciprocation,” Asterius corrects. 

“Reciprocation,” Zagreus amends. “And that is what you’re worried about, isn’t it? You think Theseus doesn’t love you, and you don’t want to force him to do so if he doesn’t already, so you feel trapped.” 

Asterius can’t help but feel vulnerable by how correctly the Short One has summed up his feelings, and how easily he connects to them, but there is a comfort in the idea that he is not alone in this, that there is another who understands his struggles, one who won’t gossip or tell. He hopes the prince knows he can trust Asterius with his secrets too. While they are enemies on the battlefield, here, in this moment, they are friends. 

“Who?” he asks, and Zagreus’ expression betrays his surprise but it is swiftly replaced by a sappier expression, a love-struck one that Asterius envies. He wishes that a certain king would look at him with a dopey smile such as that, with eyes filled with adoration like that. 

“You know Hypnos? Him.” 

Yes, Asterius knows Hypnos. The god of sleep has appeared in his dreams before, asking him questions he isn’t sure how to answer. ‘Why don’t you tell him’ is one, often followed by, ‘he loves you too, you know’ and ‘I’m sure he wants you, even if you can’t see it’. Asterius can’t trust the god’s words, not yet, but he gives him the respect Hypnos deserves anyhow, and Asterius at least finds happiness in the knowledge that the god does not run straight to his lover to gossip about his feelings.   
Though the dreams the god gives him of Theseus is enough to make him flush. 

Later, when Zagreus has yet again defeated them, Asterius takes solace in the moments between his death and his rebirth in the Styx, where his dreams are filled with Theseus, the both of them together in a garden of flowers, real flowers, and Theseus is smiling him, and giving him loving pecks on his forehead and cheek, and cuddling with him, and oh, he wishes they were real…

Asterius knows it is getting worse. The thorns choke him, speaking becomes near-impossible, and he knows that Theseus is becoming suspicious. His king worries over him constantly, making sure he has enough to eat and drink- though it hurts to do both with the thorns within him, he does it for his king- and settling him down in bed after each spar, ensuring that Asterius rests his tired muscles. 

Asterius does die, eventually, rising in the Styx, and Hypnos looks up from his ledger with an expression of concern, eyes gentle as he tells Asterius that he needs to take action. “You’re going to keep dying, at this rate, maybe even in front of him,” he tells Asterius. “I know someone who died over five times, and still seemed determined not to say anything until I convinced him to. Please, don’t let it go on for that long. Trust my words.” 

Asterius had no choice but to trust the god’s promises that Theseus reciprocates. The alternative is death to these flowers over and over again. He knows he needs to take action, but he isn’t sure how to go about it, and when Theseus calls him for yet another battle in the arena, he still isn’t sure how to say it, how to tell his king that he’d prefer something more. 

Zagreus enters the arena, shooting a look towards Asterius before responding to Theseus with his normal banter. Throughout the battle, Zagreus continually targets Theseus, until finally, the hero of Elysium falls to his sword, and Zagreus begins speaking. “Hypnos knows I told you, and he told me that you died,” he looks apologetic. “I hope that’s ok.”   
Asterius nods. 

“Are you thinking about telling him?” Zagreus swings again, the blade of his sword clanging against Asterius’ axe. The force behind each blow is surprisingly strong against Asterius’ weakened arms, and Zagreus notices, easing up a little. “Because I think you should. Soon. I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I do consider you one, and I tend to worry about my friends,” he smirks. “I know it’s selfish to try to make this about me, but you seem to need some incentive, and if knowing I’m going to continue bothering you about this encourages you to finally make a move, then. So. Be. It!” He punctuates his last words with swings of his blade, until finally, Asterius is falling. 

More dreams of Theseus, this time on a balcony in Elysium, a bottle of nectar between them.

He wakes in the Styx, and finds Theseus waiting for him, the same expression of worry on Hypnos’ face reflected on his own. He pulls Asterius up wordlessly, leading him out of the house and back to Elysium, and the bull finds himself holding back tears, yet again moved by the silent kindness of his king. 

He is settled down in his bed, undressed and tucked in, and before he can say anything, Theseus drops a gentle kiss on Asterius’ head before turning around and leaving the room. Asterius gives a soft groan, muffled into his pillow, and closes his eyes to the vision of Theseus’ soft expression.   
\----  
It’s gone on for far too long. Three times now, he has died from the thorns piercing him inside and out, and when he wakes for the third time in the Styx, he is confronted with many worried faces. It is Zagreus who pulls him up, and he knows then that the prince was killed by his king. He is not yet too tired to be proud of him. 

He is more worried, however, by the people around him. Zagreus, Hypnos, and even Thanatos are around him, and he finds himself shrinking under their silent scrutiny. Thanatos is the first to speak, his voice quiet and cold, as usual. “You continue to die for a foolish reason, and it provides more work for all of us. If you’re going to keep dying, at least die to Zagreus instead of your feelings.” 

Zagreus rolls his eyes, and Hypnos huffs, both watching Thanatos disappear with exasperation. “Don’t listen to him, you aren’t a burden,” Zagreus assures him. “That was Thanatos doing concern, and he’s not very good at it.” Hypnos hums in agreement, and Asterius represses a snort of amusement himself. 

“However,” Hypnos whispers. “I’m really getting sick of seeing ‘love for Theseus’ as your cause of death on my ledger, so…” he huffs when Zagreus gives him a playful hair ruffle, just rough enough to mess up its usual style, but doesn’t protest, and when Asterius leaves, he knows it will be tonight. 

When he arrives back in Elysium, it’s to the anxious pacing of his king, and when Theseus notices his arrival, he practically screams with both relief and nervousness. “Asterius! My dear bull, where have you been! I’ve asked everywhere, but you didn’t make any stops, and you’ve been gone longer than usual, oh my goodness, are you okay? Are you hurt? I’ll help you! I’ll vanquish the foe that dared to harm you!” 

“The only foe you’ll need to vanquish is me, then, my king,” Asterius whispers, but in the sudden silence of their chambers, it rings louder. “For I have hurt myself more than any foe. I have been...less than honest with you, and it has grated on me.” He is glad that, for this moment, Theseus is silent. His king has always been a good listener, but he tends to speak when he contributes to a conversation, instead of the quiet murmurs of agreement that Asterius prefers. This time, he is quiet. 

“I...have been cursed by the goddess of love, Aphrodite, and she has made my feelings take form in flowers and thorns that pierce my body, and have been causing my impromptu deaths,” he admits. “I had been hoping to ignore it until death, where curses are normally removed, but after further research and the advice of a friend, I have learned that it does not fade after death, and will never stop until my love reciprocates, as this entire curse is based upon my belief that my feelings are unrequited.”

Theseus pauses, and his hopeless and devastated expression hurts Asterius more than any blow. He watches, fearful, as Theseus sighs, shakes his head, and puts on a weak smile. “Let us go find the object of your affections then!” he announces, setting off across their chambers towards the door. Asterius suddenly understands the misunderstanding, and his heart shatters at the length of his king’s insecurities. 

“You will not have to go far,” Asterius says boldly, continuing on before he can stop himself. “Since you are already here.” 

Theseus freezes in his tracks in the doorway, turning to look at Asterius, and the bull could sob at the king’s expression, eyes wide and glistening with tears of disbelief, lips parted in his surprise. “You...wha…? Me? It’s me, Asterius? Surely you jest…?” 

Asterius shakes his head, moving closer to his beloved. “I don’t jest, you know I do not. This is my truth, and I admit I feared you would not care.” he coughed, scattering more flowers to the floor of their chamber, tears welling up in his eyes at the pain of the thorns in his body. “And that thought,” he wheezed. “Hurts more than any thorn.”  
Asterius dies after this confession, and he drifts back into the Styx, the curse easing in its wake.

When he is yet again pulled out of the Styx, he notes the looks of disappointment; that is until they hear the frantic cries of a very familiar voice. “Asterius! You cannot just- say things like that and then die on me!” There are tears in Theseus’ eyes, trailing down his face, and when he drops down to Asterius’ level, he doesn’t hesitate to take him into his arms. Asterius finds himself surprised by his king’s vulnerability, especially in front of Zagreus and the rest of the House, but here Theseus is, sobbing in his arms, whispering in the bull’s ear everything he’d wished for. 

“I love you too,” he says. “I love you so much, my love, my dearest companion.”

And for the first time, Asterius allows himself to breathe, the flowers leaving his body for good.   
Asterius loves Theseus. Has accepted and reveled in it, in the cuddles he receives in their shared bed, in the kisses to his snout he is gifted after their victories, and the softer kisses to his body after their losses. He hears the words he had been missing from his king, and he enjoys the tender touches and unshielded vulnerability his king displays, and when they fight, there is a new respect for Zagreus, for the one Asterius tells Theseus is the only reason he managed to confess. Asterius loves Theseus so damn much. 

And Theseus loves Asterius too.


End file.
